Out of the Blue
by coveredinbees14
Summary: Written for Newsies Pape Selling Competition : Circulation Two (Colors). Contains a bit of violence and angst.


Author's Note: Written for Newsies Pape Selling Competition Circulation Two: Colors

Prompts used: Orange: Disappointment/Blue: Depression/Indigo: Shock

Word Count: 1152 (give or take)

My apologies to my teammates - this is late and terrible with a reliance on a story that is old and characters that probably should get back to their own story and mind their own business ;-) But anyway, thank you to my team for their patience and to the readers for even thinking about giving this story a chance :-) Cheers!

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Spot had watched as the amber colored liquid sloshed inside the glass and spilled over the surface of the table when it was overturned. There were places in Brooklyn where they didn't ask about your age or your ability to handle liquor. Places where business deals were agreed upon and the consequences could very well be fatal. The bartender shouted above the din for the boys to take it outside and they obliged him, retreating to the alleyway behind the building. Only one would escape with his life. He was just an observer in that moment. His chance to create his legacy wouldn't come until later. That night and for many nights after he would remember the color of the whiskey, the scent of oranges in the air, and the way the red stain of blood spread out across the snow. He supposed the outcome could have been different, but it wasn't.

What would he tell her? What words could be used to explain what he had just witnessed? There hadn't been time to think before and he understood that the amount of time he had to deliver the news was limited. It had to come from him, no one else. He could lie to her but every possible circumstance he might create could be brought down by one errant comment from some loudmouth kid. The fight had been too public, the outcome had already drawn so much negative attention that he knew it couldn't be kept from her. But the circumstances that had led to the fatal argument could be manipulated. The boy's reputation had made the job a little easier and it was a well known fact that he was always in debt, always looking for an easy way out. He would just have to rely on instinct and find some way to detach himself from the situation. He felt the ties should have been cut long ago but he always returned no matter what.

His first attempt at speaking the truth was simple enough. A few words, a bitter joke that left a rancid taste in his mouth and the damage was done. He'd said all he was going to say. A kid was dead. The end result showed him that his instincts were right. He would have to lie because with her it would be so very different. She would want to know more than he felt capable of revealing. He stepped out into the street where the snow fell thickly and the smell of oranges still hung in the air as he searched the market place. A flash of blue ribbon caught his eye and he hesitated for a moment, taking a step back while he watched her. The two girls with her moved on ahead and Spot watched as she reached out surreptitiously breaking a bit off the end of a Christmas tree branch and tucking it into the bag hanging by her side. The vendor didn't even notice and Spot felt a touch of admiration as he followed along behind her, taking note of each trivial item she stole and waiting for his opportunity.

Flakes of snow stuck in her hair and her lips were tinged an icy blue when he reached out and touched her as she held her hands over the bright orange flames of a nearby barrel fire. The flames licked against his palms but he barely registered the feeling as she turned and smiled at him. Seeing her smile had been a rare sight since they'd left the Refuge. His reputation had grown and she was one of the few people left who reacted positively to his presence. He'd found more and more he was met with looks of concern, even fear. But she'd always been a bit different. Her smile somehow managed to melt his icy heart. He wanted to remember it, to remember her happiness because he knew what would happen when she found out. He'd be left with nothing but dust and ashes. He stared into the flames, noting the way the colors blended together and then disappeared up toward the dark gray sky.

"What is it?"

"Not here."

She walked alongside him silently, already used to giving in to his somewhat unorthodox demands. He'd never bothered to worry about taking the time to explain himself or to reveal more than was absolutely necessary. For some reason she never questioned him and her growing reliance on him only caused his sense of self to grow more inflated. A tiny feeling of fear gnawed at Spot as he had begun to suspect he needed her just as much as she needed him.

The basement was only slightly warmer than the air outside and Spot rummaged around in his pockets for a cigarette and avoided broaching the subject. Smoking never made him feel any warmer or eased the hunger pains in his stomach but it was something to do and he needed that. He couldn't stand the way she looked at him sometimes. She wore every emotion on her sleeve and had the uncanny ability to see right through him which often caused him to grow even more irritable. There were times when he allowed her in, allowed her closer than anyone before her but part of what had happened that afternoon needed to be kept hidden.

The cigarette smoke wreathed his head, creating a blue haze between the two but didn't lessen the intensity of her gaze. Out of habit she reached up and twisted the end of the cerulean ribbon around her index finger. She was worried and he knew she had every right to be.

"Say it."

"He's dead."

Later, he pulled his shirt back away from his chest and shoulders but wasn't surprised to see his skin had turned to vivid shades of purple and blue where she had struck him. Her rage hadn't lasted that long and he'd been more concerned about her injuring herself than her causing him any permanent harm. He'd been the one to shatter her world and a bit of bruised skin was a small price to pay. Particularly when he noted with some satisfaction the way she had wrapped herself around him, holding tight to his waist with her head on his chest when she'd finally collapsed, exhausted, and able to do nothing more than cry herself to sleep. His lies had been swallowed whole and although he knew the storm was far from over the truth was he had what he wanted and what he wanted was her.


End file.
